I am sorry that I can’t smile back,
return the raised eyebrow, the shoulder tilt
you exuded in my direction
like a hot breath or a muted hello.

Stay with the sweatshirted mountain
studying engineering and blind love,
kiss the edges of his struggling mustache,
maybe even marry him–
he can make you warm
in ways that I cannot;
I’m just another nameless face
that passes through the wind hugging sidewalks.